Because you won't cream for my dreams,
I'm lyin' here fucking the moon;
McCoy's keyboard cascades
are in my ears;
spiders run like lightning
across black spaces
flashing blue.

I have to bounce in silence;
we have nothing to say to one another.
My brain is full of cum,
but for you it's nothing; that's OK.
My eyeballs are like blue balls,
aching with wisdom, swinging in solitude,
while my earlobes sigh along the Duke Ellington Bridge.

I'd peer into the highway-laden canyon;
instead my knees itch with the colors of saxophones.
Nostalgia-inducing ballads make me reach
for Rilke's Duinio Elegies.
We are the bees of the Invisible.
I feel that's true, but I too am invisible.
My thoughts are too swift for this planet.